Never Could Stop, page 17
part #7 of Tasting Never Series
“Do you want start with New York City?” I ask, because that was the first place on my list when I left home. Why not try what millions of people have over the years and see what the Big Apple has in store for me? Maybe I'll end up working in a coffee shop like CY Coffee or maybe I'll go to school or maybe I'll stay there for a few weeks and move again.
Foster's right: it doesn't matter.
My home isn't where I lay my head at night, eat my meals, or do my laundry; my home is where my heart is. And my heart … it's with Beth, Never, Ty, inside the chests of the rest of the Regali women.
And it's here, inside of Foster Wallace.
“Yes,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss me again.
Another one word answer that's just bursting with possibility.
Just like my life. Simple, uncomplicated, but ripe with hope.
May we all be so lucky.
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading! I adored writing Jade and Foster's story, getting to know Never's little sister in a whole new light. Since the first book in this series came out, I've been curious about the girl who seemed to have so much hate inside of her. I'm happy to see her getting a happily ever after!
If you enjoyed this book and want more, Never Have I, which features Ty and Never as the main characters, releases September 14th, 2017. If you've been reading along with the series, that'll serve as book eight. If you just popped in for Jade's book, I urge you to try the first three books in the series for FREE by signing up for my newsletter (I don't sell or share emails, send spam, or ever try to stop you from unsubscribing if you're no longer interested). I'd love to have you on the list so we can talk books, share new releases, and host special giveaways.
P.S. If you enjoyed this book, would you please take a moment to leave a review? Reviews help independent authors like me keep writing and putting out stories with wit, heart, and humor.
Kisses.
C.M.
Forbidden love shouldn't feel so good.
Five runaway teens, one epic love story.
Angsty Second Chance Football Romance.
.
"Can one of these five rockstars fill the hole in my heart? Or will I stay broken forever?"
DESCRIPTION
Young, dumb, and broke.
That's what started everything. With five dollars in her pocket, and everything she owns stuffed in the back of her car, Lilith Goode's life is over. Done. Destroyed.
Ten words. One text. That's what it took to change the whole world.
A crumpled concert ticket. A chance encounter. That's what it takes to start all over again.
Five rockstars. One girl. Six dark hearts, six withered souls.
But can one broken person really put another back together again?
And is a cross-country tour the place to do it?
CHAPTER ONE
Lilith Goode
Tears stripe my cheeks like melancholy stars, twinkling in the bright lights cast by oncoming cars. Their high beams streak over my face and away, rocketing off through the night, a night that for me has just come to a screeching halt.
I dash the tears away with the back of my hand, my mother's silver charm bracelet jingling with the motion, and lean my forehead against the steering wheel. My eyes might be crying, but I'm not making any other sounds. I sit there silent and still, the radio playing some gentle rock ballad to carry my pain into the night.
“Look into his eyes and say goodbye; never let another day go by; don't miss the quiet moments in between; never love and never leave again.”
I sit up and grab my phone from the cup holder, pressing the home button and waiting for the screen to light up again. My stomach twists and catapults bile into my throat as I struggle not to throw up.
One text.
That's it.
All it takes to change the whole world.
In ten words, my stepmother has literally destroyed the last little piece of me.
Lilith, I'm sorry but your father passed away this morning.
No matter how hard or how long I stare, that sentence doesn't make any sense. Dad can't be dead; Dad's all I have left. Just me and Dad.
My hands shake as I toss my phone into the passenger seat and run my fingers through the rich auburn strands of my hair. Same color as Dad's. Well, what Dad's used to be before the chemo.
“Fuck this.”
My voice quivers as I turn the key in the ignition and start the engine, peeling away from the dirty, dry shoulder of the highway. I press the pedal to the floor, but no matter how fast I go, how many miles I put behind me, it doesn't change anything.
Dad is dead.
Next time I stop, it's at a gas station.
How?
That's the only word I can seem to type, but before I even press send, I know the answer to my own question. Dad was sick; Dad had cancer; Dad is dead.
I just left the city, is the text I send instead, because I really did just get off after a hard night's work and climb in my car with everything I own. The plan was for me to move in with my dad and stepmother, help take care of him until … he got better. Although I think I was the only idiot who ever believed he'd beat the cancer. Cancer can't be beat; it's a fucking monster. It killed my mom when I was in high school and now … “Dad is dead.”
I say the words aloud, but I don't believe them, not really.
This is a very hard time for me, is what my stepmother, Susan, sends back in response. I stare at those words and feel anger ripple across my skin like a hot desert breeze. I'm in Arizona now; I just want to get back to New York. Even if my dad is gone, I want to see his body one last time. I need to see it.
I shove my phone in my pocket and climb out of my car, heading inside and digging around in my purse for some money. There's nothing left on my debit card; my bank account is currently negative. And my credit cards … maxed out. Dad had promised he'd have Susan wire me some money for gas … but now Dad is dead.
He's dead.
“Are you in line?” some guy asks gently, snapping me out of my stupor. I glance up and feel my throat get tight all of a sudden. He's looking at me with careful sympathy, like he can tell something's wrong. If I wasn't in total shock right now, I'd be into this guy with the beautiful mouth and the kind eyes. Something about his face, about the cool calmness of his expression makes my chest tight and brings a sudden surge of emotion crashing over my aching heart.
My lips part, like I could spill all my hurt into the air right now and he'd take care of it for me.
Fucking ridiculous.
Me and my pain, all we have is each other.
The gorgeous guy in the vintage band tee looks me up and down in my holey jeans and white tank. My body is all curves, falling out of my clothes in all the wrong places. Round hips, full breasts, skin the color of cream. My dad's side of the family is Irish and Scottish, so there's a sea of freckles across my nose that some guys think is cute. Clearly, the boy in front of me does, too.
“I, uh, seem to have misplaced my wallet,” I say, shoving the offending item deep into the depths of my purse, so he can't see it and realize I'm lying.
He looks me over again with eyes the color of a tropical sea. I wonder for a moment as he stares at me if he's wearing contacts, but I don't think so. As I look at him, tears spring to my eyes unbidden. I try to choke them back, but he sees anyway.
“Here,” he tells me, dressed in a rugged pair of jeans that look too expensive to be real. Something about the way they crease, something about the sharp smell of denim. His short auburn hair is shaped into a low mohawk, and he smiles at me when he passes over a wad of green bills. “For your tank.”
“Thanks,” I say as I curl my fingers around the money, my eyes drawn to his long fingers. Lines of fire scorch my skin where he touches me which only makes me cry harder.
There's a long, drawn-out sigh from this guy as he ruffles his hair with his musician's hands.
“Do you want a hug?” he asks which both surprises and weirds me out.
“No,” I say, taking a step back, curving my own fingers around the money. I look at him warily, like I think he expects to get something out of me for this cash. My eyes narrow and he sighs again, shrugging his muscular shoulders.
“Too bad.” His smile is sharp and short. “I'm really good at them.”
And then he steps up to the counter and tosses some money onto the glass, leaving with a pair of energy drinks and a bag of beef jerky. I notice he has a book tucked under one arm, too.
I breathe out suddenly as he disappears through the glass doors of the convenience store and into the hot desert night.
“Miss?”
I glance up at the clerk behind the counter and then down at the bills in my hand. Eight fives. Forty bucks. Wow. More generous than I expected.
I put it all in my tank and head back outside.
While I wait for my shitty AMC Matador to fill up, I check my phone again. I realize vaguely that my hands are shaking and my eyes are blurring with tears again, but I push all of that emotion down, tuck it deep inside and let it eat at what's left of my soul.
There's no need for you to come now, Susan says in her next text. I try to call her, but if the bitch can't be bothered to call me to tell me that my last living family member is now dead, then why should she pick up now?
I throw my purse to the ground and dump its contents on the oil soaked pavement, searching for any loose bills, any change. There's about fifty cents in dimes and nickels. When I bury my fingers in the pockets of my jeans, I find a five dollar bill.
Five dollars and fifty six cents.
That's what I have to my name.
I clamp a hand over my mouth and sit back on my ass, the vast expanse of a desert sky stretching above me like the domed roof of an amphitheater. Not caring that I'm lying on the ground at a gas station, I fall onto my back and let the tears drip down either side of my face.
When the pump ticks to let me know the gas is done, I sit back up, sniffling, and gather my things back in my purse. As I do, I catch sight of a shiny strip of paper, shaped like a bookmark.
BROKEN HEARTS AND TWISTED SOULS TOUR featuring Beauty in Lies, Rivers of Concrete, and Tipped by Tyrants @ the Lyndon-Carter Stadium March 21st. Doors open @ 8 p.m.
It's a concert ticket, one that my last boyfriend bought me a few months back. When we broke up, he left the pair of them in our apartment, an apartment that I no longer have. I gave that up when he cheated on me, gave up my new apartment to move back to New York to be with my dad. I gave up my job. I even gave up my cat.
I search frantically through crumpled receipts and coffee stained napkins with little notes scribbled on them, until I find the second ticket.
The concert is tonight of all nights, but it's right here in Phoenix. I could take these tickets to the show and sell them outside the door to some kids looking for a good deal. Then, with the money, I could get to New York.
Dad might be dead, but surely even my wicked stepmother will give him a proper funeral?
I stand up and jerk the hose from the Matador's tank, shoving it back into place on the gas pump as I simultaneously look up directions to the concert venue. It's early yet, but I should still be able to hawk these tickets outside—looks like the show tonight is already sold out. Maybe I can even get some good money, enough to buy food and possibly a night or two at a motel? The drive from Phoenix to New York is long: thirty-six hours of straight driving.
I climb in my car, start the engine and head off in the direction of the venue.
As I drive, I think I see the guy with the expensive jeans and the tropical eyes on the side of the road, but I don't stop. I don't have any business with him, and boys that look like that can only mean trouble.
Whoever could've predicted he'd be one of the five … one of my five.
Lily and her five rockstars.
I'd give them my body, my heart, and my soul. I'd descend into their darkness as they embraced my own … and our connections would be pure poetry.
I'd become Lilith Tempest Goode, the ultimate groupie for Beauty in Lies.
In my own way, I would join their band, and sex … that would be my instrument.
KEEP UP WITH ALL THE FUN … AND EARN SOME FREE BOOKS!
JOIN THE C.M. STUNICH NEWSLETTER – Get three free books just for signing up http://eepurl.com/DEsEf
TWEET ME ON TWITTER, BABE – Come sing the social media song with me https://twitter.com/CMStunich
LOVE YA SOME SNAPCHAT? – Let's send some exclusive and killer Snaps such as video from book signings and sneak peeks at new books, search cmstunich or visit https://www.snapchat.com/add/cmstunich
LISTEN TO MY BOOK PLAYLISTS – Share your fave music with me and I'll give you my playlists (I'm super active on here!) https://open.spotify.com/user/CMStunich
FRIEND ME ON FACEBOOK – Okay, I'm actually at the 5,000 friend limit, but if you click the "follow" button on my profile page, you'll see way more of my killer posts https://facebook.com/cmstunich
LIKE ME ON FACEBOOK – Stop on by, click like, and don't forget to drop me a message https://facebook.com/cmstunichauthor or https://facebook.com/violetblazeauthor
CHECK OUT THE NEW SITE – TBA (under construction) but it looks kick-a$$ so far, right? You'll be able to order signed books here very soon http://www.cmstunich.com
READ VIOLET BLAZE – Read the books from my hot as hellfire pen name, Violet Blaze http://www.violetblazebooks.com
SUBSCRIBE TO MY RSS FEED – Press that little orange button in the corner and copy that RSS feed so you can get all the latest updates http://www.cmstunich.com/blog
PINTEREST – Lots of hot half-naked men. Oh, and half-naked men. Plus, tattooed guys holding babies (who are half-naked) http://pinterest.com/cmstunich
INSTAGRAM – Cute cat pictures. And half-naked guys. Yep, that again. http://instagram.com/cmstunich
GRAB A SMOKIN' HOT READ – Check out my books, grab one or two or five. Fall in love over and over again. Satisfaction guaranteed, baby. ;)
P.S. I heart the f*ck out of you! Thanks for reading! I love your faces.
<3 C.M. Stunich aka Violet Blaze
Find your next five star read in C.M. Stunich's (aka Violet Blaze's) collection and discover more kick-ass heroines, smoking hot heroes, and stories filled with wit, humor, and heart.
About the Author
C.M. Stunich is a self-admitted bibliophile with a love for exotic teas and a whole host of characters who live full time inside the strange, swirling vortex of her thoughts. Some folks might call this crazy, but Caitlin Morgan doesn't mind - especially considering she has to write biographies in the third person. Oh, and half the host of characters in her head are searing hot bad boys with dirty mouths and skillful hands (among other things). If being crazy means hanging out with them everyday, C.M. has decided to have herself committed.
She hates tapioca pudding, loves to binge on cheesy horror movies, and is a slave to many cats. When she's not vacuuming fur off of her couch, C.M. can be found with her nose buried in a book or her eyes glued to a computer screen. She's the author of over thirty novels - romance, new adult, fantasy, and young adult included. Please, come and join her inside her crazy. There's a heck of a lot to do there.
Oh, and Caitlin loves to chat (incessantly), so feel free to e-mail her, send her a Facebook message, or put up smoke signals. She's already looking forward to it.
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Front Matter Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Signup for my Newsletter
Author's Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Back Matter Author's Note
Stepbrother Inked Cover
Beautiful Survivors Cover
Kicked Cover
Groupie Cover
Groupie Description
Groupie Excerpt
Keep Up With The Fun
More Books By C.M. Stunich
About the Author
C. M. Stunich, Never Could Stop
